time of dying, a halo reach story
by Taliyeth
Summary: Noble six recalls his teammates' deaths and the civilians he saved during his time on the dying planet reach while giving his lasts kicks to oncoming covenant forces that eventually neutralize him.


Spartans follow orders to the death, I thought to myself while remembering my team. Jorge, Cat, Carter, Emile, all sacrificed themselves. And now I would give the last kicks of my on this dying planet, reach. I delivered the package to Keyes, and covered the escape of the ship and its cargo. And now, on this lone wolf mission in my time of dying, surrounded by the fallen, I would fight until they kill me, the fourth death of noble team.

The assault rifle I found was beside an EVA Spartan, some of the ammo spent into an elite's body. My pistol was full, only two bullets gone. The sound of the phantom made my hand shake with adrenaline flowing through it. My health bar was full. And my devotion to killing as many as I could was through the roof.

It was only a second when I walked into the blown apart building and a grunt walked through the corridor. I thrusted my fist to its face, feeling the snap of its jaw as it let out a methane cursed huff and fell dead. Peeking through the corridor, I could see five more crouching when stopping or hustling to me. My assault rifle can wait I told myself. My handgun came to my hands with a click, and with experience I pulled the trigger, aiming it quick out of habit. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! All five yelped or snarled out loud, all headshots. Suddenly I heard the roar of an elite. From around the pipe area a minor with a plasma pistol came charging. I switched to my assault rifle, firing away until the shield broke. It stopped, throwing its hands up into the air and growling, then resumed charging. When it was close it spun on its heel and tried to kick the side of me, but I stepped to the side and stomped its leg, sending it to one knee. Knife. " _Snick''_ the knife slit into its head. I ripped it out, sending a pepper of blood to the ground, the elite gulping and falling over.

And then I heard the ever so menacing sound that a Spartan never wanted to hear. A wraith shot, the massive mortar of plasma hurling through the air and to the corridor, me responding with backing up into the building before it killed me. My shield broke, my helmet visor cracked. Here we go, I said. I took an armor lock ability from beside a recon Spartan and equipped it, walking out into the open. Walking up the steps to a platform with two machine guns on it, I crouched and looked around. There was another dead Spartan below the left gun, a pilot. Far out was a group of grunts accompanied by another minor, as common when battle took place. The fog was distant, but heavy. If it wasn't for the amount of plasma fired in this loading station, I would be fighting blind in the fog with nothing but my trackers.

I saw a DMR by the pilot and took it. The ammo was completely full, the poor bastard never stood a chance. I took a shot at a grunt, straight headshot through and through. The grunts around the dead one scattered, the elite ran. I fired at what I could see, killing the grunts. "RRRRAWWWWRRRR" I spun around. A powerful punch cracked my visor even more. Livid, I snatched my knife out punched the ultra in the face, slitting its throat with another jolt when its neck was exposed. Gurgle, silence. I walked off the platform, greeting more grunts with one shot one kill effort or assassination when they turned to coward. Two elites charged me, I dispatched them skillfully with my assault rifle, walking forward still. Grunts, grunts, and more grunts. I killed them all, blue neon blood on the dirt and some even on my black armor. Elites started coming more and more, and my shield broke many times as I grew more dying. My acuity was fractured with my visor. My muscles, though genetically modified, ached. Sweat and blood came from my armor, I hadn't realized how many times I had been hit before it was severe. And then, I felt my body burn like hell itself as I was thrown through the air. A rolled on my back, catching myself to my feet again. The tarpaulin of my shelled body was failing by the minuet. I looked for my assault rifle and DMR, seeing a charred spot in the ground. The wraith. I had forgotten all about it, and I paid the price. I walked to them, reaching down to grab one, and "Whack!" I was struck back, so hard I fell. I managed to get on one knee before my helmet slipped off, clattering to the dirt with a puff of dust. There was a whole in it, and a crack striking it downwards from the far left side. I looked up, seeing a general elite. Energy sword drawn, it charged. It dove its sword at my chest, I grabbed its wrist and pulled it down, not hitting me. In that same instant, a stabbed it in the neck, its aorta exposed and erupting with dark blue blood. I pushed it off, motionless. Noble six I said out loud, chuckling. I thought about the past few months. My team, the people I saved on the plane transport, the marines I fought with, and the kills a ranked up. That was me.

More elites came. Generals, ultras, minors, and spec ops. I couldn't reach my guns. All of them that came at me had under blades drawn, or energy swords. And I stabbed and I sliced, cut and jolted all of them to the dirt with spilling wounds. I had been struck multiple times, covered in the blood of both my enemies and myself. And then the marshal came, and with a golden elite! Both with energy swords. My time of dying. I charged at them, the marshal sent his sword through my torso. Bending to my knees, blood flowing out my mouth, I used what was left of me. Despite the pain, I slung my leg, tripping the marshal. The ranked elite hit the ground, his shield showing warning. The golden elite tried to strike, I ducked. The blade through me had no hand, and it sheathed out of thin air. I put both hands on my knife, and sent it with the rest of my life into the marshal's neck, making it gurgle and fling its arms. Then the golden elite swung again, getting its strike across my bloody chest. That was the last strike. I breathed out tasting blood in my breath, my last breath. My vision and my pain, my hearing and my memories, faded. My body fell back, and I joined the fallen on this war zone of blood. Spartans never die, they… just go missing in action.


End file.
